


A Fool's Parade

by RunePhoenix6769



Category: RWBY
Genre: Atlas Military, Crime Fighting, F/F, Fall of Beacon, Grimm - Freeform, White Fang, World of Remnant
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-03-03
Updated: 2018-06-22
Packaged: 2019-03-26 07:34:46
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 10,881
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13853037
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RunePhoenix6769/pseuds/RunePhoenix6769
Summary: A damaged thief must atone in a world she helped to break. A misguided Faunus must face the consequences of the company she chose to keep.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is a work in progress. As it stands I am figuring out where and how this is all going to play out. 
> 
> Other RWBY haracters will come into it, but this is an Emerald/ Ilia fic
> 
> It will start as friendship and blossom into something more.
> 
> I shall change tags, rating and archive warnings as I go. 
> 
> If you feel that I am writing them incorrectly or something is missing, please, dont hesitate to contact me. 
> 
> You can reach me at my tumblr which is my a03 / fanfiction handle.

A Fool’s Parade  


 

Is a working title. For a rare pair whose ship name I haven’t figured out. Emerald Sustrai and Ilia Amitola.  
Any ideas or help is much appreciated. I’m a tad out of practise but hey, it’s all for a bit of fun.

 

Prelude.

The room was grey, some would call it black with intervals of off white.  
A bunk  
Brick upon brick.  
One, two steps left, one two steps, right.  
Food and blankets sparse.  
Brick upon brick.  
Her knuckles bare, calling out.

 

 

Chapter One. 

 

A clang far off snapped her awake. Just a few more minutes, she silently pleaded. 

She had been standing in a field, the warm sun on her face, the rustle of the wind in the trees, surrounded by a Mistrali summer. 

She closed her eyes, attempting to chase the respite she found in her dreams. 

Another clang. 

There was never any quiet, even in the dead of night, the pipes would gurgle and knock as they expanded and contracted in the bowels of this icy hell, and on the very bad nights, shrieks of the other inmates would echo through the halls. 

On the edges of her hearing she could make out the guards on their early morning rounds. 

Unable to reclaim slumber, she knuckled her eyes, resigning herself to face whatever horrors the day might bring. She rolled over, shifting uncomfortably on the hard, unforgiving surface, until she was sat on the edge of the bunk, before gingerly testing the temperature of the floor through her threadbare socks. 

Taking a moment to gather herself, she peered up at the slither of a mesh covered window set high up in the off white wall. The sky, just beyond her reach, a bank of impenetrable clouds, as dull tendrils of light struggled to break through and illuminate the sparse, 12ft by 10ft room. 

It was always so grey here. 

Somewhere beyond the walls a crow cawed. 

Fresh air, she wondered, what did that even smell like anymore? 

The sound of the breakfast cart drew closer. One of its wheels squeaking, heralding its arrival. The opening of a hatch, muffled conversation, the slam of a hatch and the sound of the jailer’s chain clinking against metal as the lock clicked home. 

It was something she would never get used to, or rather, she feared that she would. 

Shivering, the young woman drew the thin, scratchy, dark blue blanket over she shoulders, wincing at the aches in her muscles and bones from the involuntary movement, as she made her way to the minuscule sink in the corner. 

Clang!  
Turning on the tap, she wondered how long had she been here? 

The only indication at the passage of time, her once neatly clipped, light green bob, now came down past her shoulders. Her cheekbones, once apple shaped, now sunken and sporting a blossoming purple welt, the rest of her olive skin giving off a sickly pallor. The biggest change, her eyes. 

Where before there had been playful mischief tinged with hunger, now there was only absence.

No longer crimson, but red, not from the colour of her iris but bloodshot from lack of sleep.

Eyes she could no longer meet in the reflective acetate mottled with age

Even in the worst days of living on the streets, she had been capable of meeting her reflection. 

Quickly, she bowed her head, scooped up water and splashed her face, taking a small pleasure in the cool sting. With a shaky hand she reached for the toothbrush she had begged her, force appointed public defender to acquire. 

Clang! 

Hastily, she finished brushing her teeth, wiping her face on her pale blue prison scrubs and attempted to smooth her hair before shuffling to stand against the back wall of her cell as was customary every morning. The key scrapped against the hole, the bolts shrieking in protest. 

Clang!  
She flinched.

A small square of bright light appeared on the grey stone floor. 

“00670069!” The jailer barked, “C’mere where I can see you!” 

Shadows shifted in the small square. From the other cells, muffled insults, descriptions of what they wanted to do to her and all the ways of how she was going to die, dinner trays against walls and doors. For a brief flickering moment she contemplated remaining where she was, as she had done in the first few weeks, but her bruised ribs reminded her that, here, defiance was costly.

“Don’t make me come in there!”

Ignoring the noise from the other occupants, her head bowed, Emerald shuffled forward, until the tips of her toes where bathed in the artificial light. 

“That’s quite far enough, you filthy rat!” The jailer sneered. “And don’t try pulling any of your crap! I got my two boys right here!” He motioned to either side, beyond her sight. 

She knew it was pointless to try. 

Aware of her semblance, she had been put under 24 hour surveillance with two Atleasian Knights at her door. It had been someone called General Ironwood’s idea, claiming it was for her own protection.

Fat lot of good it had done her. 

You couldn’t trick technology with illusions, but the powers that be could conveniently turn off the recording device.  
Faunus and humans alike, each monsters in their own right, members of the White Fang, disgraced Huntsman and Huntresses, captured bandits, military deserters and mercenaries. Watts was also down here, rotting in the icy bowels of this hell. Or so she had heard. She had found no quarter amongst them. She often wondered if the prison governor questioned why there was huge swaths of static or whether the footage played, whilst he or she just sat there, watching it with glee. 

Her jailer shoved the beige, plastic food tray on to the hatch door. She reached for it. 

“Ah, ah ah, not too quick!” He taunted as he pulled it back. “I was wondering, if you would like to go out for a stroll today?”  
He grinned wolfishly through the tiny hole in the door.

Emerald didn’t rise to the bait. The last time she had naively taken him up on his offer, he had released her into the yard where she had been joined by two other inmates. Needless to say, they had landed in the infirmary and her, in the hole. 

“What do you say? For old times’ sake?”

“No, thank you!”

“Ah come on, it’ll be the last time you get to see outside.” 

She stiffened,

“What?”

“Aww, did nobody tell you? You’re going to Mistral, for sentancing! And if it is anything like your buddy,” The jailer paused, his finger at his chin, “What was he called? Oh, yeah 00670017”

Silence descended through the corridor, as the other occupants strained to hear the exchange.

His name was Mercury!” She growled

“Yeah, that’s the guy!” He rolled his finger in her food, “More than likely you’ll be following him! You should have seen him, blubbering like a child, his little stumps waving as they dropped him from the gallows!” He let out a bark of laughter as he wiggled his fingers in a dangling motion. 

“Fuck you!” she snarled as she lunged at the door.

He shoved the tray so hard it shot out, hovering in mid-air for a second before colliding with her, tipping its contents down the front of her shirt and clattering to the floor. 

“It’s your last meal! Enjoy!” 

Slamming the hatch shut, he turned the key. Emerald shook, counting the seconds, until he moved on. Her legs crumpled beneath her, knees colliding with bare stone. Shoulders shaking, she let out a gut wrenching wail.  
It rolled off the walls. 

The other prisoners in their dark cells remained silent, unable to find it in themselves to jeer. 

The same fate could await them, after all.


	2. Chapter Two

A Fool’s Parade. 

Chapter Two. 

 

Petty Larceny,

Public Disorder,

Destruction of Property, 

Use of fake documents

Grand Larceny

Fraud

Inciting Mass Panic,

Grievous Bodily Harm,

Weapons without a Licence,

Affiliation with known Terrorist Organisations, 

Accessory to Murder, 

The list went on. 

The tribunal consisted of Nine Members all together, two from each country with a judge making the Ninth vote in case of a tie. Mistral and Vale had sent a Human and a Faunus delegate to represent. Menagerie, two Faunus as expected. Atlas, him and one other human. 

Vacou, had declined to send any representatives claiming impartiality but in the spirit of diplomacy, had offered an attorney for her defence.

Appointment to the tribunal had been by a closed ballot of their peers but James Ironwood had made sure that he was one of the Atlesian representatives. 

For weeks they had argued and deliberated over every minute detail, right down to her Mistrali citizenship. The Mistrali delegates felt that due to the attack on Haven Academy and the apprehension of her, Mercury and Hazel by their police force, she should be charged under Mistrali law. 

Glynda, one of the Valeshi delegates, was disinclined to agree. After all, it was due to lack of Mistrali government oversight of the children in their care that Emerald Sustrai had come to be at risk and recruited in the first place. 

Who in their right mind allowed a teenager with an aura and semblance slip through their fingers and not be brought into the safety of a combat school? She had been arrested before, had she not? Why hadn’t she been offered a place? 

“She didn’t fit the requirements” The Mistrali Delegate had sniffed. 

“More like she didn’t have the money to cover your ridiculous fees!” Glynda had venomously spat.

The other Valeshi delegate, a Faunus with an encyclopaedic knowledge of the law, and more than likely born at the end of the last major war, chimed in, 

“Who in their right mind weaponised children at all!”

The other Atlesian delegate had poured oil on an already raging fire,

“Other than the White Fang?”

Enraged, the Menegese delegate had literally barked back,

“And Atlas haven’t been making a whole army of weaponised robots who look like innocent children.” 

Which had led on to the polarised debate of whether what occurred at the Vytal Festival was classed as murder or not.  
James Ironwood, sighed, coming to any sort of agreement had been an uphill battle, and now this. 

The room was overly stuffy, the moisture in the air playing havoc with his prosthetics. Damn, why hadn’t he fought harder for this to take place in Atlas or even Vale? Rolling his neck, he rose, stiffly, from his seat, noting the momentary flicker of concern on Glynda’s usually stern features, he made his way over to the table laden with refreshments. 

The argument continued to rage as he poured a generous amount of steaming Vacuoan finest from a Vale press into a fine bone Mistrali cup. A shadow engulfed the table causing the General to turn face first into bare, barrel chest of the imposing Menagese representative.

Caught a little of guard, he spilt a bit of coffee onto his pristine white uniform. 

He was a military man, how had he not heard him approach? 

Collecting himself, he took another sip from his cup, tipping it in greeting,

“Your Grace.”

The Menagesian observed him from behind half-moon, gold rimmed glasses, before breaking into a small smile, 

“Call me Ghira, I think we are past pleasantries at this point, don’t you, Ironwood?”

James observed as the hulking man gracefully extracted a delicate cream pastry from the bottom plate of the elaborate display, with the quick and fluid movements, his Faunus traits would suggest, yet belied his size. With a dessert fork in his bear like hands, he began to eat the Atlesian delicacy. The General would almost swear that he was savouring every creamy morsal. And it would almost be comical if it wasn’t for the knowledge that the Chieftain of Menagerie had once been the High leader of the White Fang and by all accounts torn to shreds numerous assailants, as his home burnt down around him and with a knife in his back no less. 

“Have you thought any more about my proposal?”

The huge Faunus shoulders dropped a little under the purple coat, only enough for those with keen eyes to notice.

“We in Menagerie take care of our own business in house. You yourself admitted that Atlas could not find a Faunus high enough in office to be considered eligible for this tribunal, what makes you think she would get a fair trial?”

James standing to military attention, replied,

“I am embarrassed to say that she wouldn’t. But maybe a Valish court would?” 

The slightly veiled threat hung in the air.

The feline Faunus rubbed his beard with his hand, his brow furrowed in contemplation. James caught sharp claws on the end of powerful fingers, wondering what damage hidden weapons like that could cause to an Atlesian Knight, or even a Paladin for that matter. 

Scowling at the General, the Chieftain rumbled,

“You shall have my support, if only for the sake of Ilia”

The two men returned to listening to the room. 

“I would hardly call an android a human!”

“I can assure you, Delegate Blanc, Miss Polendina was very much of the human persuasion.

“She was Atlesian Military property!”

“You can’t own a person!”

“Try telling that to my brothers and sisters!”

“Don’t make this about politics and Faunus rights!”

Ghira let out a roar, slamming his fist on the table causing it to crack.

“Enough! You are squabbling like children!”

With a flap of his long sleeves, the Mistrali delegate muttered,

“How uncivilised!”

Before another argument could erupt, James pushed himself off the refreshment table, and smoothly interjected,

“I think we have discussed all there is to discuss.” He began to circle round the table, “All in favour of a suitable, ” He stopped at the male Mistrali delegate, resting his prosthetic hand on the man’s silk covered shoulder, “And fair sentence, say Ai!”

James watched as hands began to rise. Glynda, he had expected to agree. Ghira, begrudgingly followed by his colleague. To his surprise the female Mistrali slowly raised her hand. A small mouse like woman, she raised her voice, the others struggling to hear her. 

“I think what Miss Goodwitch said, holds true. This child was failed by those in charge. I will not have it said that she was failed by the justice system.”

The other representatives from Atlas, Vale and Mistral remained resolute. James smiled, giving the Mistrali man a pat on his shoulder, who sank underneath its weight,

“That makes 5 to 3!” 

As he turned to retrieve his bag, a sound like a rapier being withdrawn from its scabbard filled the room. A voice, clipped in the Valishi accent, belonging to the one person in the room who had not participated in any of the debates or voiced her opinion on any of the issues.

“Young man, we are not finished here!”

Whipping round, he began,

“Your honour, I have no wish to offe,,” 

She held up one small hand, glaring at him through her overly large glasses. Sat in her overstuffed chair, wrapped in her black robes, she put the Military man in the frame of mind of an owl. 

“Sit down, Mr Ironwood!”

“It’s General!”

Her eyes became gimlets, skewering him the spot. 

“Then deport yourself as one!” She waited until James sat down, before continuing, “As I was saying before I was rudely interrupted. Yes, it is your duty as members of this council to make suggestions as to the nature of the sentence. However, that is merely a precaution to ensure that no one country is seen as dictating international law.” She glanced at the Valishi Faunus representative, who nodded in reply. “I have gone over the evidence, and listened to the deliberations. I have seen the testimony of Miss Sustrai, and agree that the punishment should fit the crime.”

“Violet!” Glynda cried out in shock, “You can hardly hold a girl barely out of her teens to the same standard of a man who butchered close to forty Huntsman and Huntresses? Or a boy who willingly murdered his father!”

Leaning forward on her elbows, she pointed a bony finger in Glynda’s direction, 

“Do not vex me. It is Mrs Oakenshield to you!” 

“Oh for Dust’s sake.” The teacher from Beacon muttered, throwing her hands in the air, before crossing them over her chest.

Judge Violet Oakenshield, rubbed her hands together, the dryness making a papery sound.

“I’ll take into consideration that Miss Sustrai turned states evidence. That she helped apprehend Mr Reinheart, but know this, I shall not be lenient because her mother didn’t give her hugs at night. What you are doing is asking everyone in this room to ignore the fact she helped cause a catalyst for a massacre! You shall have my proposal by the end of the day. Sentencing shall commence tomorrow. Dismissed!”

Judge Oakenshield left with a flurry of her robes before anyone could begin to protest.

There was a moment before chairs scrapped against the floor and the rest of the delegates began to file out. As the other Atlesian representative made to leave, James blocked his exit,

“Gunther, just how long have you been on the SDC payroll?” 

The strawberry blond, blue eyed man, looked at the General as if he was an insect, 

“I don’t like what you are insinuating!” 

James leaned down, menacingly,

“And what am I insinuating?”

Gunther wriggled past. Pausing, briefly he retorted “You can’t always get what you want, James” before fleeing down the corridor.

Stepping back into the room, the General picked up his bag, and began gathering up the paperwork and notes accumulated over the meeting. Slipping into his jacket, he straightened up his appearance in the reflection of the window. Satisfied, he collected his bag, swinging it over one shoulder, making sure it did not interfere with his holster before leaving the room and making sure it was closed behind him.

“General!” came the deep rumble, too close for comfort. 

Whirling round, his hand instinctively at his hip, he came face to face with Ghira and Glynda in the hallway. Both of them noticing his stance, he attempted to brush it off, 

“If you’re going to insist on sneaking up behind people, I'll get you a bell!” 

“James!” Glynda gasped in disapproval.

For a brief second, golden eyes flared, before the Faunus broke out into a booming laugh, which caused the other occupants of the hallways to turn, throwing quizzical looks in their direction. Grinning, the Menagese Chieftain slapped him on the back, colliding with the General’s prosthetic shoulder. If he noticed the metal, he didn’t let on, instead, he broke the awkward ice, 

“Professor Goodwitch here was regaling me with stories of my daughter at Beacon.”

Glynda nodded, as they set off down the hallway.

“Yes, your Grace, Miss Belladonna is one of our more exceptional students and I must say is a pleasure to teach.”

“That sounds like her. Always had a nose in a book, as I recall.”

Ignoring the stares from people as they passed, Ghira seemed, to the untrained eye, at ease in this place not used to seeing Faunus walk around so care free. Jacket open, so as to show no concealed weapons, but at the same time his impressive stature as a deterrent for any who may be foolish enough to try. Stopping at the elevator, James kept his hand near his gun, just in case, as he noticed Glynda kept her crop tucked under her arm, both looking for movement in the shadows of the building’s alcoves and recesses. 

It had not been broadcast that the Chieftain of Menagerie was visiting, but it paid to be prepared for any leak of information.  
There was a ping and the elevator doors, whooshed open. Stepping inside, he announced,

“I’d like to pay a visit to your school, if I may?”

Following him inside, Glynda smartly turned round to face the doorway.

“Of course, your Grace, “

“Please,," Ghira grinned, "For a lady such as yourself, there is no need for honorifics.”

Flustered, Glynda patted her hair and pushed her glasses to hide the flush of her cheeks. Bringing up the rear, James stifled a chuckle causing green eyes to narrow into a glare. Ignoring him, she continued, 

“We are currently in the process of renovating, but as soon as we are presentable, you shall be our esteemed guest.” 

The elevator operator gaped in awe at Ghira, after a few brief seconds, he squeaked, 

“Which floor, Sir, Madam?” 

“Top, please.” 

The operator began to turn the handles, activating the pulleys that were needed. As he leaned over, the pants of his uniform, slipped down slightly to reveal the tip of a curly pink tail poking out. An awkward silence descended on the group, save for the pinging of the arrow for every floor past. As the elevator doors opened, the ex High Leader of the White Fang paused, reaching into his pocket he handed the young Faunus a mixture of denominations of lien before exiting the car. 

With a flick of her riding crop, Glynda opened the heavy doors, leading to the roof where a small military class airship, surrounded by plain clothes personnel awaited.

Ghira fixed both teachers with almost a pained look as he solemnly stated, 

“You were right James, she wouldn’t get a fair trial here.” 

With his heavy coat flapping in the wind, he stepped out into the mid-afternoon light, their replies lost to sound of the airship. His hunched figure becoming smaller as he ducked into the airship. 

Glynda pinched the bridge of her nose, as James cursed under his breath. 

“That could have gone better.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading. 
> 
> I would greatly appreciate any criticism or comments to help me on my way. 
> 
> Am still finding my groove so anything at all, would be helpful. 
> 
> Once again, thanks


	3. Chapter 3

A Fool’s Parade. 

Chapter 3. 

She hadn’t imagined that any other cell could be as stark as the one she had inhabited in Atlas, but she was currently being proven wrong, there was nothing save a long concrete bench and a single metal toilet bowl. The walls seemed to be made out of sheer rock, marred only by previous occupants names and initials accompanied by bad spelling of ‘woz ere’ and dates scratched into the smooth surface. On one wall quite a good carving of the White Fang emblem above ‘Fuck the SDC’ stood out.

Emerald traced the lines of the wolf’s open jaws with one chewed finger nail. She had read about oubliettes and this was pretty close to what she imagined, sat in her make shift home in one of the numerous shanty towns in the lower levels of Mistral, huddled beneath a blanket and using a waning candle housed in a lamp as she had devoured the pages of the book she had pilfered.. The thief in the pages, after years of imprisonment had escaped to exact revenge on his enemy, the butcher, it had always been her favourite. She would give anything to be back there, rather than here.

Now, The Thief and the Butcher made her think of Tuckson, she hadn’t directly killed him but she hadn’t stopped it either. Resting her forehead against the coolness of the wall she played over the many times that she had stood idly by whilst Mercury went about his business. 

The previous prisoners had they also come to a grisly end? Criminals received pauper’s graves, nothing to say that they existed. Suddenly the names stood out as the walls closed in. These etchings, were they the last remnants of people knowing they were about to drop, refusing to be completely forgotten? 

Her breath came in short, sharp gasps, her eyes roving over every single scratch and scrape, searching for the initials M.B. Sweat began prickling her forehead, heat spiking in the cold hard cell. Gripping the edges of the bench till her knuckles turned white, her legs bounced as she struggled to draw air into her lungs. The door to the cell opened letting in a gust of fresh air, Emerald gulped and gasped like a drowning man breaking the surface of cruel and unforgiving ocean. 

“Are you ok?” 

The young thief wiped her face with her hands as she began to regain some semblance of control. 

“Miss Sustrai, are you ok?” a heavily tinted Vacuoan voice asked again, with concern. 

“Yes!” She replied, thick and strangled. 

In the doorway, her appointed lawyer looked oddly out of place in his loose, brightly coloured clothing in the style of the country he hailed, his round face ruddy, no doubt from the oppressive Mistrali heat. Beyond him, Emerald could make out two guards hovering, one with her hand on her weapon as if she expected at any moment the thief would make a mad dash for freedom.

Gently, the lawyer placed a paper covered package on the bench beside her. 

“I brought what you asked for.” 

The female guard stepped forward as if to enter the room before the chubby Vacouan firmly stated, 

“We’ll give you some privacy.” 

Emerald gave him a wan smile.

“Thank you Mr Badil.”

As the door closed and the lock slid home, Emerald slowly untied the package, peeling back the tissue thin paper to reveal the clothes she had been arrested in, a waft of Moonroot and Bearsuckle permeated the small space. Slipping out of her pale blue prison scrubs and leaving them pooled on the floor, her olive skin raising goose bumps as she removed the garments from the package. Her mint green boob tube had been replaced with a respectable similar coloured vest top with wide straps, silently she thanked the kindly man for having the foresight. Her signature half waistcoat and ¾ length pants still remained, gleaming in comparison to her white prison issued underwear. Lastly her brown chaps and strappy heels. 

There came a rap on the door. 

Quickly she pulled on the vest top and waistcoat, before attempting to slip into her pants and chaps. They hung loosely on her protruding hips bones, caused by bad prison food and sleepless nights. Taking the string that’s tied the package she attempted to fashion a makeshift belt, sighing in frustration as it just about didn’t reach. Swiftly, she removed the laces from the bottom of her chaps, using them instead to attach the chaps to the belt holders on her jeans. The cell door opened again as she sat down to slip on her heels. 

“Are you ready?” 

“Yeah.” She murmured. 

A female guard entered the room, accompanied by the rattling staccato of cuffs and shackles.

“Remain seated.” 

Emerald kept her eyes on the floor as the guard clicked home the restraints checking to make sure they were tight enough. The cool touch of steel caused her to flinch.

“Follow me.”

Emerald glanced around in bewilderment, eyes alighting on Mr Badil. 

It’s ok!” He assured her. “Are you ready?”

Standing up, she mutely nodded. 

With one guard at her front, another at her back and Mr Badil by her side, they began making their way through the twisting narrow corridors. Their progression was slow as the thief shuffled forward, each step laboured by the shackles on her ankles and cuffs on her wrists, every movement made all the more difficult as she attempted to stop her trousers from slipping down. 

The doorway opened and suddenly ahead of her was awash with light, causing her to blink and momentarily lose her bearing, tripping up a step, only to be caught gently at the elbow. The guard led her into the centre of a cavernous room, which reminded the young Mistrali woman of the smaller gladiatorial training rings at Beacon. The seats and gallery were empty save for a Faunus stenographer hunched over, refusing to meet her gaze and two Atlesian Knights stationed beneath a curved, dark liquored dias, set up high. The sound of her chains bouncing off the floor were all at once muffled and echoed, like a cave with a carpet. Following Mr Badil’s lead she sat down in the chair provided, doing her best to set her features and calm the shaking of her hands, each movement caused the cuffs to grate against her slender wrists. Spying the jug of water on the table she whispered,  
“Please may I have a glass?”

Immediately the lawyer poured one, with shaking hands she accepted it, gulping it greedily as she struggled to concentrate on the lawyers hushed tones as he began explaining how the tribunal worked. His words all at once too close and far away as he rambled about delegates, Faunus, Mistral, Atlas and the judge.

Suddenly there was a flurry of movement, as people began to file along the dias, each taking their seat in the muffled silence. The tremor in her legs returned as she recognised one of the members of the tribunal. There was no mistaking the glasses and no nonsense appearance of the blond teacher from Beacon. Beside her a huge Faunus with a thick black head of hair that merged into a beard, a heavy purple coat draped over his shoulders and the other side a man, dressed in a pristine, Atlesian Military uniform who looked vaguely familiar. Emerald let out a shaky breath as she scanned the five other delegates made up of Humans and Faunus. Another door opened and closed with a huge boom as a slender woman, with taunt, stern features entered the room swathed in dark robes.

“All rise for the Honourable Judge Violet Oakenshield presiding.” 

Mr Badil touched her arm, indicating for her to stand. Fearing her legs may go from under her, she struggled to get up. 

“You may be seated!” Came the sharp command. 

Gratefully, the thief collapsed back into the seat. Nine pairs of eyes continued to stare down at her, unable to meet them she focused on the huge emblem of Remnants fragmented moon surrounded by smaller shapes of each continent.

“Are the shackles entirely necessary?” Asked a Mistrali female Faunus she did not recognise. 

“Yes, they are your honour!” The female guard sombrely replied. 

For a few moments there seemed to be a debate, before the judge announced, 

“The restraints remain.” Clearing her throat she continued, “For the remainder of the proceedings the defendant shall be referred in the court records by her prison number and prison number alone, is that understood?”

The Faunus stenographer nodded in acknowledgement. Violet Oakenshield pulled up her sleeves, before settling herself back in her seat, 

“All evidence has been presented. We shall not be discussing the particulars of the case. It is my opinion that far too much time and resources has been spent as it is. This is merely a formality to hand down sentencing.” She fixed Emerald with a look of disdain, “Does the defendant understand the charges against her?”

The judge’s brusque demeanour caused Emerald’s stomach to churn, instantly regretting having gulped the tepid water. Beside her, Mr Badil slowly rose to his feet to address the room, 

“Yes, she does your honour.”

“How does she plead?” 

“Guilty, your honour.” Taking out a piece of paper, Mr Badil approached the dias. Handing it to the Judge he continued, “However, I would like to state that the defendant has no priors, willingly turned state’s evidence, has co-operated to the full extent with the authorities, and has shown considerable remorse.”

One man rifled through his papers, selecting one he peered at it through his glasses, 

“She has been previously arrested, I see here.”

“Yes, your honour, she has, but no charges were brought against her.”

Satisfied he leaned back in his chair.

The judge leaned forward, 

“Anything else?”

Peering out from beneath her bangs Emerald caught a twitch from the man in the military uniform. For a moment her lawyer seemed to forget himself before continuing,

“If it pleases the court, I would like to read a statement, a copy of which you shall find before you.”

The Mistrali man scoffed, 

“I think we have read eno..” 

The huge, purple clad Faunus cut him off, 

“I would like to hear it!”

There came a murmur of agreement from some of the other representatives.

Taking a sip of water, Mr Badil pressed on, 

“I ask it be taken into consideration, that before Emerald Sustrai was approached by a one Miss Cinder Fall, she had been a homeless, orphan for many years. It is my opinion that she fell in with a bad crowd, found herself in over her head, with no option of escape without a considerable degree of danger to her own life. I implore the esteemed members of this tribunal so show her mercy when handing down sentencing.”

The room remained silent. 

The judge, high in her pulpit, nestled in her overflowing dark robes, her features pinched and thin hair, peered down at Emerald like a vulture, 

“Miss Sustrai it is my understanding that you had an integral part to play in the fall of Beacon. And it is my belief that the sentence ought to reflect the nature of your participation. However, in this closed tribunal, we have been asked to take into account the extenuating circumstances of how you came to be on this path, ending in the predicament you now find yourself. After much deliberation, it has been suggested by esteemed members of this council that an agreement be made. I want the record to note, that I do not condone this as I believe, however misguided, you were aware of what you were doing, actively participated, and as a result of your actions, however indirectly, countless lives have been lost and forever changed. It is my belief that handing over evidence was an act of saving your own hide rather than an admission of guilt. Luckily for you, Miss Sustrai my esteemed colleagues deem otherwise. Thereby, against my express wishes, I sentence you to ten years, hard labour. If this was simply me presiding, I would see you hang.”

Glynda rose to her feet, in admonishment, 

“Ten years hard labour! Violet, you can’t be serious?” 

Violet snarled back,

“I assure you I am! TEN Years!” 

The judge banged her gavel, before storming out of the room. Emerald quailed, the blood pounding in her ears as all around her the court room erupted.

“James!” Glynda implored, “She’s a teenager!”

The Atlesian Military man shook his head.

Either way it’s a death sentence!” Someone else added.

“Tell that to those who died!” argued the other Valish representative. 

Emerald’s body shook uncontrollably and she didn’t feel when Mr Badil rested a comforting hand on her shoulder, 

“Its ok! We shall appeal.”

The female guard took her by the arm and began leading her away as Mr Badil followed. The young thief waved off the Vacoan lawyer, 

“No!”

“Emerald!” He implored. 

Whirling on him, and twisting out of the guards grasp, she screamed

“I said No!”

A hushed silence descended on the room. Ignoring the stares, she quietly added,

“No appeal. It more than I deserve.”

The Mistali thief stumbled after the guard without a backward glance. 

She paid no attention as she was led once again down narrow corridors, through gates that needed to be locked and unlocked at every turn. She remained head bowed and mute, offering no resistance as her finger prints were scanned on scrolls as she was led on to the prisoner airship that would take her to a life of imposed servitude, that she had no doubt would prove fatal. 

She remained in her daze, shackled to the harsh and unforgiving seat that vibrated with the thrum of the ships engine as it took flight and felt no passage of time as each mile covered took her closer to her destination. It was only till the ship banked hard to the left causing the cuffs to bite harshly into her wrists that she was shook back into the present. 

"Prisoner 00670069, get up!" 

The airship guard pulled her harshly to her feet, 

"This is where you get off."

Blinking in confusion, she stumbled forward as he tugged her along, past the other occupied cells, off the ship and onto a wind whipped airship platform where a dark skinned woman wearing a long dark grey coat and light blue beret waited.Her face was youthful yet her stance demanded respect. Once more scrolls were exchanged. 

"She's all yours."

"Thank you Officer!" The dark skinned woman replied as she pressed her i'd to the scroll. 

Emerald shivered in the biting wind as all three waited impatiently for the scroll to accept the i'd. 

Peering at his scroll, airship guard gave it a rough tap. 

"It's not going through, do it again!"

The grey officer glared at him, 

"It will, give it time."

The airship officer squinted before his features slipped into a brief look of shock as the scroll bleeped. Hurriedly he stuffed it back in his pocket, standing to attention, his eyes staring straight forward. 

"This is above my pay grade!"

"Yes it is, Officer!"

He snapped off a salute before turning on heel and disappearing back the way he had come, leaving Emerald and the mysterious woman alone. 

"Who are you?" The confused thief asked. 

"Follow me, 00670069!" The woman barked. 

Once more Emerald was left to trail behind, struggling to keep her balance between wearing heels and loose trousers in the gale force winds that threatened to tip her over. She was almost relieved to be inside the airship dock, if only for respite from the elements until she spied the tell tale white and black robots she had come to despise and think would be ever present in her life, guarding a small, lacklustre looking air ship. 

Dubiously, she followed the woman aboard, attempting to take in every detail, looking for something that might give away who this person was. The interior border lined on shabby with odd patches of dark paint, yet kept meticulously clean and neat. Intermittently she passed numbered cubbyholes with the tell tale black webbing of a ship used to swift, unexpected aerials. , the sharp corners padded for emergency stops. She had heard of ships like this, mostly used by pirates, smugglers and brigands. Arriving at a faded military grey coloured door, the woman motioned for her to enter. The room was swathed in browns and deep russets, with a table and what looked like two comfortable chairs. It was spacious and cleaner than her previous accommodations. 

"Where am I going?" Emerald asked in bewilderment, 

"Just step inside and sit down."

With trepidation she obeyed. There was a quick movement behind her and she felt a deep prick in her neck. 

"Fuck!" She yelled as she slapped a hand to the wound, "What the fuck was that?" 

"Insurance," The woman coldly replied, before exiting the room. 

Once more, Emerald was left staring at four walls wondering at her predicament. In her youth she had heard whispers of slave traders and labour camps but nobody had ever spoken to anyone who had returned from one. Most humans on Remnant, safe in their homesteads, didn't believe they existed, yet any one worth their Dust knew if you wanted to know about suffering in the world, you asked a Faunus.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If anyone is reading this, please comment, just so I know I'm going in the right direction. 
> 
> It's a work in progress and different from what I usually write. Plus its really good to be getting back into it after a 3 year hiatus. 
> 
> It's totally correct what people say, it takes practice and if you dont do it for a while you forget everything and loos ground. 
> 
> Its also nice to have feedback.  
> Thanks for reading!


	4. Chapter 4

A Fool’s Parade.

Chapter 4 

Nobody would claim that the General was overly cautious without provocation. Early on in his career, his proactive approach to problems had caught the eye of the higher ups, helping him to advance swiftly through the ranks. His attitude of ‘First in, Last out’ as he entered the fray garnered the respect and admiration of many of the soldiers under his command, regardless of gender, human or Faunus. It would never be said that he lacked the ability to gather people to his cause and yet, if pressed, there were few within the military he trusted.

His current crew consisted solely of two humans who had proven themselves time and again trustworthy and a third, who would no doubt prove loyal if only for the fact that to lie, would go against protocol.

He wondered who exactly was at the controls of his beloved airship as it bumped up and down, causing a small set of screwdrivers to briefly hover in the air before crashing back onto the desk. She was old, yes, a decommissioned military vessel, specifically designed for reconnaissance. He had salvaged her, at considerable personal cost. Her engine and manoeuvrability could outclass most, if not all the airships in the fleets of the Mistrali and Valish forces. Granted she didn’t have all the bells and whistles of cruise control and autonomous parking but in the right hands she was nigh uncatchable.

As the air ship began to steady, he returned to his task, tinkering with the wiring in the wrist of his cybernetic arm. As he adjusted the magnification of the single eye glass he was wearing, the scroll beside him crackled, 

“General! Did you hear what I said?” 

With feather light touches he manoeuvred the miniscule utensil into the space between the cogs, flicking out the offending piece of dirt, 

“Yes, Ma’am!” 

The crackly voice continued, 

“If this goes tits up, I’ll stand by my original judgement and deny all knowledge!” 

He wiggled his trigger finger, watching how the cables and cogs interconnected as he replied, 

“As I’ve stated, you shall be nowhere near this.” 

“Good!”

There was a long pause, the General looked up, and reaching for a small oil can he always kept near his person as the scroll crackled back to life. 

“Are you sure we need to go to such extremes?” 

He began to administer tiny droplets of the viscous liquid, continuing to move his cybernetic fingers whilst watching the miniscule parts move smoothly against each other.

“All undercover military personal have disappeared without a trace and evidently we cannot rely on the authorities in question.” Satisfied with the movement, he wiped the excess oil with a cloth, “I wouldn’t suggest it, if it wasn’t necessary.” 

There came a ping at the door. 

“I have to go.”

“I hope you know what you’re doing!” 

“I hope so too. Thank you.”

“What do yo..”

With a swift movement he cancelled the call, removing the magnifying eye glass and setting it down, before bellowing,

“Come in!” Closing the casing on his arm, he smiled in greeting, as the crew member entered the makeshift office, “Private Soleil.”

The young student snapped a salute. 

“Sir!”  
Her gaze lingered hungrily on his arm and the instruments on the table, catching his eye, she snapped back to attention returning to staring at a point over his shoulder. Inwardly he grinned, the young private couldn’t help herself. As a Huntress the student’s skill had left a lot to be desired, yet over the years her knack for electronics and mechanisms had come to light, making her an invaluable part of any team, Atlas Academy had found a place for her talents.

In an attempt to relieve her of her embarrassment he good naturedly offered,

“It’s good practise. Wouldn’t do to be caught helpless in the field if it malfunctioned, now, would it?” 

“I doubt there would ever be a situation where you would find yourself helpless, Sir!” Realising her slip in protocol and over familiarity, she stammered, “. I . I have come to inform you that we have 00670069 in custody.” 

Standing up, General Ironwood rolled down his sleeve and buttoned it at the cuff.

“Good. I trust it went smoothly?” 

“Yes, Sir!”

Quickly, he closed the scroll, palming it into his pocket, 

“Walk with me.”

The pair exited the make shift office and began to make their way along the airship galley, the small woman struggling to keep up with the General’s long strides. Occasionally the ship would tilt ever so slightly causing them both to steady themselves against whatever surface was available. 

“The files?” He asked,

“Most have been taken care of. Mark ii is currently working on the rest, Sir.” Her words came out clipped and forced. 

“I wish you wouldn’t call her that.” He chided.

The ship continued to rattle all around them; the sounds of secured cargo slamming against their restraints intermingled with the sounds of the engine. Pausing at the juncture of the gangplank that would lead either to the make shift brig or the maintenance bay, he noticed a dark cloud pass over the young woman’s features,

“Is there something you wish to say Private? Permission to speak freely.”

Her grip tightened on the railing, as she replied accusingly.

“I don’t understand why you have to use 00670069, Sir, after what she did?” 

“Often in times of war concessions and alliances must be made with those who may be seen as unsavoury. I will not ask that you accept her with open arms but only that you show her respect as you would a prisoner of war. Is that understood?”

The young private returned his comment with a glare border lining on insubordination, ignoring it, he continued, not unkindly,

“I understand that you lost a valuable colleague.”

A hard edge tinged Private Soleil’s voice,

“She was more than a colleague, Sir! She was my friend!” 

He rested a hand on the woman’s shoulder, giving it a squeeze,

“You are one of my best, and I wouldn’t ask you on this mission if I did not think you capable of attending to your duties.”

Her features softened, a small smile ghosting her lips at the compliment as she replied, 

“Thank you Sir!” 

The pair began their descent only for the young woman to freeze, 

“Permission to be excused, Sir?”

Perplexed at her request, the General looked around until he found the cause. Down below, the third member of his crew seemed to be pacing back and forth, practising greeting imaginary guests. Understanding the student’s sudden change in demeanour he gestured for her to leave, watching for a thoughtful moment as she disappeared back into the bowels of the ship. Continuing his descent he called out,

“Polly, what are you doing here?”

“Hello General Ironwood!” The android waved cheerfully, “I offered Specialist Schnee alternative vectors, she offered to ‘turn me into a bucket of bolts’ and ordered me to keep an eye on the prisoner. I am afraid I don’t quite understand the expression. Is it in the Military Handbook?”

Trying not to laugh, he joked, 

“Now I understand the reason as to why we are being bounced all over Remnant!” 

The red haired, young woman blinked at him. After a few painfully slow moments realisation dawned on her face, her mouth making a huge O before splitting into a wide grin, 

“That was a joke? Because Specialist Schnee is an awful pilot!” She added, “That is why I offered her alternative vectors. I am always glad to help my fellow human!” 

The General looked for any hint of sarcasm, but the open honest face stared back unblinkingly and he was left to ponder just how much of himself, Giuseppe Polendina put into the personality protocols of his creations. 

“I wouldn’t say that out loud or you may find Specialist Schnee will make good on her offer.”

Peering through the one way tinted window at Emerald, he enquired,

“How is she?”

“Sir, she stands at 5ft 7 inches, weight…”

He stopped her, 

“I mean her behaviour?”

“ 00670069 has investigated her surroundings. Her heart rate is elevated. She has inquired twice as to ‘Who is out there?’”  
The woman in question remained seated but would occasionally rub her wrists or ankles looking around the room. He rapped lightly once off the window, watching how she flinched in apprehension, before swiftly manoeuvring a seat into the far corner, putting the table between herself and the door. 

‘Smart girl’ he thought.

“Has she attempted to escape?”

Polly shook her head,

“No, she tried the door once, Sir! This behaviour is normal of a meat human in a strange place, is it not?”

“Yes, it is.” Continuing to observe Emerald, he thoughtfully stroked his days’ worth of stubble, “I would be more concerned if she hadn’t.”

Polly fixed him with an expression of confusion,

“Sir?”

“It doesn’t matter.” He waved off the inquiry, before adding, “Bring the meal on my command.”

Polly snapped off a salute,

“Yes, Sir!”

He waited patiently for Polly to leave before keying in the code. Entering the room, he observed as Emerald watched him warily from her seat. Her eyes flickered momentarily to the door and immediately back to him as it smoothly slid closed with a hiss. Her expression, belied the tension in her body, he noticed bunched muscles and the way in which the she positioned her feet beneath her, the sign of someone who was used to moving swiftly if the need arose. Cautiously he approached the only vacant seat, before gesturing, 

“May I?”

“I can’t stop you, can I?” came her biting reply as she fixed him with a glare.

He wasn’t surprised and silently pleased when the young woman, did not relax her slightly defensive posture. He continued to observe her. From what he remembered of her, she was usually quite meticulous in her appearance. Her cheeks were slightly hollow, almost gaunt looking, no doubt from the bad prison food she had been consuming of late, her long mint green hair pulled back in a messy pony tail. Her dishevelled appearance looked out of place with the pristine white of her outfit. It was a far cry from the girl who had handed herself over to authorities almost a year ago. What struck the General the most was her eyes. Though red rimmed and surrounded by dark circles, her stare, he recognised. He had seen it countless times in local militia who had held back relentless Grimm for far too long before help could arrive. Some called it the Thousand yard stare, he called it the stare of a soldier. 

It was fear dulled to an edge mixed in with exhaustion and a steely resolve to survive.

Sitting across from her, he opened his scroll, 

“Do you know who I am?”

“You were at my tribunal.”

Slightly rising from his seat, he offered his hand politely,

“I am General Ironwood.”

Her nose twitched and eyes narrowed in indecision before she hesitantly shook it. 

“You’re the guy responsible for the robots outside my cell!”

 

“For your own protection.”

Rolling her eyes, she scoffed, 

“Fat lot of good that did.” Narrowing her eyes, she retorted “You not afraid I’ll try any hoodoo and bolt off this hunk of junk?”

He admired her composure and feigned confidence, recognising the behaviour of someone attempting to keep a handle on a situation out of their control, of the bravado, hiding fear of the unknown. It was similar to a rookie going into battle the first few times.

“You are welcome to try.” He replied dryly, “But I think you will find we are currently over the ocean. Besides, on arrival you were injected with a tracking device. We are able to track you anywhere on Remnant and the only way to remove it is with an Atlesian Military device which is not on this ship.”

“What the fuck?” She angrily started, hands balling into fists, slightly rising from her seat.

The General swiftly countered,

“Would you prefer the cuffs and chains?” 

“So that’s what she meant by insurance?” The young woman seemed to deflate, sitting back down down, crossing her arms loosely over her middle. 

Matter a factly he replied.

“It’s a precaution.

“So I’m you’re prisoner?”

“You are in my custody, yes.” 

Emerald began picking at the material of the armrest, it seemed as if she was internally struggling, the only sound, the knocking and inner workings of the ship.

“Miss Sustrai? Are you hungry?”

She remained defiantly silent, but at the mention of food, her stomach let out a loud gurgle. Lightly tapping his scroll, the General hid his slight amusement as the young woman sniffed at her body’s betrayal. 

“Miss Sustrai!” He pressed.

“Yes!” She begrudgingly replied.

After a few moments, the heavy silence broken only by the knocking and inner workings of the ship, the door pinged. 

“Come in!” He called. 

Polly entered the room, a tray laden with food and a small bottle. She grinned in greeting, 

“Salutations General. I brought the sustenance as you ordered!”

James ignored the new arrival, watching the room’s other occupant instead, as in a swift flurry; she pushed back on the chair, the unexpected force nearly tipping it over in the process. Scrabbling into the far corner, her eyes wide and face pale, she began to babble, 

“What the fuck! “ She pointed a finger accusingly, “What are you doing here?”

Polly looked between Emerald and the General in confusion, 

“I am bringing sustenance as ordered?” 

In the corner, Emerald trembled, trying to take in huge gulps of air, 

“What’s going on? Is this some sort of sick joke?”

She began to hyperventilate.

James stood up, his hands up and out in front of him, 

“Whoa, whoa. Its ok. Calm down!”

Her eyes remaining glued to the android, Emerald mutely shifted back as far as would allow. Polly smiled, as she gently placed down the tray, her voice light and breezy. 

“Don’t be alarmed. I am an android with an aura. The second of my kind.” Polly began approaching Emerald, with her hand outstretched in greeting.

“You’re dead!” Emerald shrieked. “I watched you die!”

Polly blinked slowly, 

“You are mistaken. Maybe you need the sustenance? I have heard your kind see things when under duress. Are you under duress?” 

Emerald’s face became a mask of terror, fixated on the robot woman’s offered appendage.

“Stay away from me!” 

The android turned to her commanding officer, 

“Sir, I am confused, have I upset her? Perhaps I did not introduce myself correctly?”

“It’s ok Polly.” Ironwood assured her, “Wait outside.”

“Father said that sometimes this might happen. I must make the apologies.”

“Polly!” the General barked.

As the android left the room, James cautiously approached the thief, who had slid down the wall, he could hear her muttering, 

“I killed her, I killed her!” 

Hesitantly, he reached out, 

“Miss Sustrai.”

She flinched at his touch, looking up at him with eyes brimming with tears.

“It’s ok. Its not the same person. Her name is Polly.” He offered her a handkerchief, 

“Why would you do this?” She whispered, accusingly. “Is this my punishment?”

“Come,” He coaxed, “Come have some food.”

He poured a generous helping from the bottle into a glass, before offering it to the shaking thief. 

“It will help.”  
She shook her head, as she furiously wiped at her cheeks. 

“It’s Mistrali wine. I assure you there is nothing wrong with it.” He took a huge gulp, “See!”

Hesitantly she took it from him, yet remained on her haunches, watching him warily as the General returned to his seat and began to serve himself from the tray. 

“What do you want from me?”

“Come and join me for some food and I will answer your questions.” As his cybernetic fingers deftly picked a grape from the bunch. “You must be starving.”

She clambered to her feet, downing the wine before taking her seat at the table. The General pushed the tray laden with cold meats, cheeses, soft, warm rolls and fruits from each of the continents towards her in encouragement. He watched as her caution was won out by hunger. Skewering pieces of food on to her plate as if by random, she paused, watching him from under her green bangs before devouring them ravenously, her melancholy replaced with bravado as she downed yet another glass of the sweet Mistrali wine and the colour returned to her cheeks. 

“I apologise, I should have warned you.” He offered as he took a tiny sip from his own glass. 

Mid chew, she fixed him with a glare, before continuing to devour her meal. As she ate, she reminded the General of a number of animals. A rabbit, eyes darting everywhere, wary of her surroundings. A hamster, with the way she seemed to pouch the food in her cheeks before chewing and swallowing. A gazelle, her head cocking ever so slightly to one side and then to another, as if listening for some unseen predator, haunches quivering ready to bolt at a moment’s notice. Her hands shielding her plate, shoulder slightly dropped like a Jack Russell, ready to defend against all who came near. Deep in thought at just how much she had to fight to survive he almost didn’t hear her when she asked,

“Where are you taking me?” 

“That’s entirely up to you.” He countered,

“Are you taking me to the dust mines?”

Pretending to be engrossed in his scroll, he hit the audio record button,

“Why would you think that?”

“Because that’s where we all end up. People like me.”

He looked up from his scroll. She continued her tone as if he was a clueless child.

“Everyone knows about the dust mines.”

“And where did you hear that?”

She unceremoniously stuffed a piece of bread in her mouth. 

“The soup kitchens.”

Staring at his expressionless face, she swallowed,

“You lot in your gilded towers don’t have a clue what it’s like for the rest of us.”

“Tell me.”

She snorted,

“You wouldn’t understand!”

“Try me.”

Emerald cautiously. Looking away, she sucked her teeth before coming to a decision. 

“People went missing all the time, especially the Faunus. One week they’d be at the soup kitchen, and then you wouldn’t see them ever again!” She wiped her hands on the napkin as she continued, “We tried to look out for each other but there’s only so far you can stick your neck out.” She stuffed another piece of cheese in her mouth, “You kind of hoped that they had found a way to move on, but deep down we knew.”

“Knew what?”

The thief rolled her eyes, sighing in exasperation,

“Brothers, you really are dumb!” 

Ignoring the insult, the General remained silent. Taking a sip of her wine, she explained. 

“The Mistrali cops would catch you for something small, something victimless, like stealing food or pan handling and then ‘poof’,” She snapped her fingers for emphasis, “You’re gone!”

“I would hardly call stealing a victimless crime.”

Her lip curled up as she spat,

“See, I told you, you wouldn’t understand. Not everyone is like the Nikos or the Schnees of the world, you know! Not everyone has a semblance or an aura to defend themselves.” For a moment she looked almost morose, before adding, “I was one of the lucky ones.”

“How did you unlock your semblance?”

Emerald wrinkled her nose, announcing,

“I'm tired!”

Realising the conversation was over, he replied,

“Polly will show you to your quarters.”

“I know what I did was wrong. There’s no need to rub my face in it!”

He bridled at the insinuation,

“That is not my intention. “

“And what are your intentions?”

Ignoring her question, he added,

“I’m sure there is no need to remind you that to attempt anything foolish will result in you making your original destination. The rest of the meal is yours to do as you wish.” Collecting his scroll and taking another grape, he asked, “Is there anything else you need?”

She observed him coolly, before an impish look came across her features,

“Yeah! If I can’t have my holster, the least you can do is give me a belt!” 

Picking up his scroll, he chuckled as he left the room,

“I’ll see what I can do.”

\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

Entering the cockpit of his beloved ship, James Ironwood smirked as he watched Specialist Schnee hunched over the controls, her lips pursed and eyes narrowed in barely bridled frustration as she worried over flight paths and vectors. She tapped one of the gauges with her perfectly manicured fingertip before giving it a resentful whack with her fist, muttering barely audible obscenities under her breath. Strands of hair had escaped her usually neat bun, giving her a frazzled appearance. 

Coming up behind her, he queried, 

“What are you doing to my beloved ship?”

He watched with amusement as she jumped to attention, attempting to smooth her appearance all at once. 

“Commander on deck.” She bellowed to no one in particular. 

“At ease soldier.” 

Handing Specialist Schnee a steaming cup of Valish fine blend, he asked 

“How are we coming along?” 

Cupping it in both hands, Winter let out a soft sigh of appreciation, before returning to her seat,

“Thankyou, Sir.” Taking a long sip, she added, “We are making fine time, however, I believe the fuel gauge to be broken.” Once more she tapped the offending gauge, “I can’t see how, as Private Soliel assured me that the cells were fully charged on take-off.”

The General slid into the seat next to her, inspecting the gauge before breaking into a huge grin. 

“What?” Winter barked, in annoyance,

Leaning over the middle console, James flicked a switch to reveal a panel with a state of the art interface, digital dials flickering blue and green. 

“I replaced it.”

“You mean to say I have been flying this death trap manually…”

“There’s an old saying ‘Don’t blame the ship, blame the pilot.’”

“I passed my flight exam.” Winter replied indignantly.

“By the skin of your teeth, Schnee.” He teased with familiar camaraderie, 

“Mere conjecture.” She replied brusquely, “ Besides, this model was taken out of commission by the time I sat the test.”   
“We chose to upgrade.”

“For good reason. Look at it,” She gestured with a broad sweep of her hand, “It’s falling to bits. It doesn’t have autonomous parking, cruise control.”

“It has auto pilot!”

“Barely!”

“If I remember correctly it was the parking part of your test where you failed miserably.”

“That is what autonomous parking is for!” The young woman groused, 

“It’s ok, I wasn’t about to allow it to blemish your perfect score.”

“It didn’t! I still finished top of my class, regardless.”

Tapping the console, he took over control of the ship, noticing the handling was slightly off kilter due to the harsh cross winds buffering the port side. He began to type in instructions to compensate before thinking better of it and maintaining manual control. 

“Did you watch the interview?”

“I caught it on the monitor, Sir.” For a moment Winter remained in deep thought, “The stunt with Polly, it was risky.”

“It was necessary.”

“Did you get the answers you were looking for?”

“I think she genuinely is remorseful. But whether she is willing to come on board remains to be seen.”

“Does she have a choice?”

“Not really.”

“And the Faunus?”

“I think those concerned will make the terms agreeable.” 

James checked the monitor screens as Winter began typing furiously on her scroll. The staccato of her nails merging in with the sound of the ship. 

“Do you still talk to your old sword master?”

Looking up from her scroll, Winter’s eyebrows creased in surprise,

“Berdea Cid? Not for some time. The last I heard that old rogue was running a business out of some God forsaken hole in Vacuo.”

“Good. I need you to contact him, privately, as a civilian, of course. We may have use for him in the future.”

Her scroll momentarily forgotten, Winter began,

“Sir, I owe you a lot and I would serve under your command until the last Grimm…”

“I can feel a but coming.”

“Is this legal, Sir?”

“I assure you, Winter, it is all above board. I would not allow one of the finest Specialist’s I have ever had under my command to risk her career, but when we land, we need to go our separate ways, for the time being.”

“Sir?” The young Specialist queried.

“Take a few days’ vacation, visit your sister.”

“But Sir, I can help you with this.”

“I know, but it is imperative that you are seen in Vale, just until I send you further instructions.”

Winter tipped her head in begrudging acknowledgement, returning to her scroll. 

The ships instruments remained quiet, the weather report coming through registered as calm once they passed threshold of deep sea and came closer to land. Still hundreds of miles from shore and in heavy cloud, he took satisfaction in the fact the radar remained clear. Usually this far out and at this altitude it was rare to come across Grimm, Nevermores preferring to be inland and Lancers warmer climates and shallower waters, but it paid to be diligent, as strange new types of Grimm had come to the fore in the last year. Seeing his Second in Command beginning to wane, he assured her,

“I can take it from here. Private Soleil can finish the reports before we dock. Get some rest.” Watching as her face began to bunch up in protest, he added, firmly “That is an order!” 

Getting up from the seat, Winter stretched, stifling a yawn. As she exited the cockpit, Ironwood called after her, his tone light,

“Maybe whilst you’re there you can fit in a flying lesson from Yang. I’ve heard she is capable of flying anything she puts her mind to.”

“That is not funny! She is an uncouth grease monkey.”

“A grease monkey who is a superior pilot!”

Before she could protest, he pressed a button on the console, the cockpit door closing with a hiss.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please feel free to comment and let me know what you think. :) 
> 
> Hope you are all enjoying the show,


End file.
